


Hunted

by Lipstickcat



Series: Waking Demons [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Community: wrestlingkink, Demon Finn Balor | Prince Devitt, M/M, Prompt Fill, demon!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Lipstickcat
Summary: ...It was a gimmick, in a whole world of gimmicks, but that thought just didn't ring true, not when pale piercing eyes looked out from a face as dark as a burned and charred world and fixed right upon him...





	Hunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vampire_goth_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampire_goth_girl/gifts).



> Most of this was screaming at me to be written as soon as I watched Summer Slam. I went searching for fics because surely I couldn't be the only one to see what I saw? And instead found a prompt on Wrestlingkink2 that fleshed out the thought in an interesting way: https://wrestlingkink2.dreamwidth.org/423.html?thread=200103#cmt200103
> 
> This is just the beginning of this...  
> _____________________

Hunted. 

He felt hunted. 

From the moment that Balor slowly rose from his crouch at the entranceway and started to stalk down the ramp, Baron Corbin could feel ice dread creeping through every vein, every capillary. It was a gimmick, in a whole world of gimmicks, but that thought just didn't ring true, not when pale piercing eyes looked out from a face as dark as a burned and charred world and fixed right upon him.

The music played on, the lights flashed. He took another step back and nearly tripped over the commentators' table. In unison, the crowd cried out, throwing their arms in the air in excitement and glee. 

_In worship._

Not quite a voice in the back of his head, just a low, curious rumble. A moment of sharp detachment, then Baron was back in the arena, cautiously climbing into the ring, shaking his head at the referee. 

"No! This is not what we agreed on!" That other thought instantly forgotten. 

Much of what followed was a blur. Mercifully short, but confusing. Most of the time he had no idea where he was, the attack seeming to come from all angles at once. The cries of the audience, _so bloodthirsty_ , like the bellows of hunting horns. The lights too bright, the orange and reds of the Summer Slam theme blazed like a fireball from monitors and screens all around him. 

He was on his back, dazed and overwhelmed. The demon Balor had his leg hooked and Corbin knew he should just keep his shoulders down and end this. He shut his eyes and listened to the count, eager to make his getaway. Balor won, the crowd cheered, his leg was released. 

... But still the demon lay over his torso, like an animal possessively guarding it's kill. 

Something in the back of his head was irked by that. Something growled. 

Then, a rub: Crotch against crotch. It happened sometimes when you grappled with other men for a living, but this was no accident. This was deliberate. This was... 

_Scent marking._ That one was loud and clear. A deep rumble of a voice. Baron could feel his own lip curl as if he was trying to show fangs he didn't have. 

He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, forced himself to lie still as Balor finally pulled off him. When he could take it no longer, he half scrambled, half rolled out of the ring and stumbled back up the ramp as the Demon King began his victory celebration. 

The crowd was cheering, and taunting him as he passed. He could barely hear, though. He felt like he was pacing, even though he just kept on going forwards; off stage. The thought mulled and turned over in his head like an interesting artefact, in a voice that didn't belong to him: 

_So many people worshipping something that had been almost dead. Not forgotten now. Risen again..._


End file.
